A Complication in Time Travel
by BAMF in a Jumper
Summary: Sherlock Holmes a consulting detective of 1887 was a clever man, and he wasn't all that surprised to have accidently invented a time machine. However he was startled when the device took him a bit further into the future than he originally intended. AU.


**Why hello there, and welcome to my first ever Sherlock story!**

**I'm a bit of a noob when it comes to writing so if you see any mistakes please do not hesitate to point them out! Also I'm dyslexic which makes it hard to spot my own errors. So if anybody is willing I'd love to take on a BETA, whether it's via fanfiction, e-mail or Tumblr.  
That's enough waffle from me now, so please do enjoy the storey.**

**Here have a summary: Sherlock Holmes a consulting detective of 1887 was a clever man, and he wasn't all that surprised to have accidently invented a time traveling device. However he was startled when the device took him a bit further into the future than he originally intended, one hundred and twenty five years further than he wanted to be precise. To the year of 2012.**

_**Just saying I do not own anything BBC Sherlock related, I'm just writing this for my own enjoyment.**_

…

John Watson, retired army medic was sitting in his flat with a freshly boiled cup of tea. John was looking forwards to a pleasant evening of TV watching and sofa snoozing, but alas that was not meant to be, because a tall elegant man from 1887 accidently warped into his sitting room.

…

Sherlock Holmes was rather pleased with himself; well when you say pleased and Sherlock in the same sentence it actually means that he is incredibly, insufferably, smug about something. This said thing was that he had successfully created a time machine, or as Sherlock liked to call it the Time Skipper.

The Victorian detective had managed to create this time device out of his brother's most prized pocket watch; it was a expertly jewelled and contained ten minute diamonds and seven miniature rubies, and the inside of the watch's fob was inlaid with mother of pearl. Basically Mycroft's watch was worth a small fortune. It was probably worth a very large one now, seeing as it you could use it to speed up or reverse time at will.

Sherlock was positive that his newly created time skipper would obey his every command; he was its creator after all. But as it turned out the time device quite liked being a simple (albeit expensive and very ostentatious) pocket watch. So when Sherlock attempted to jump one hundred and twenty five minutes into the future, the time skipper changed its setting to years when Sherlock wasn't looking.

He was now standing in the 2012 version of 221B Baker Street, with a very startled army doctor staring at him.

…

John took a deep breath and a sip of tea with his eyes closed, he hoped that the strange man in his sitting room would have vanished by the time he opened them again.

John cracked open an eyelid, the man was still there.

John cleared his throat and stood up, he was about ask what the fuck that man thought he was doing in John's flat. But the tall, elegantly dressed man managed to but in first.

And he asked the most bizarre question.

"What year is it?" Snapped the dark haired man.

John just blinked, this guy sounded awfully posh.

The now slightly frightening man took a step towards John and asked the same question.

John answered him this time, "It's 2012."

For a split second a look of shock and horror flitted over the well-dressed man's face, but he swiftly masked it.

"This wretched watch!" The man suddenly yelled and in a fit of anger lobbed what seemed to be a small golden pocket watch across the room.

It spun through the air like a Greek discus and came to an abrupt stop as it smashed into the televised Bruce Forsyth's face. Causing the telly to crack, make a pained zapping sound and cut out.

Both of the men stared at the television, but for two entirely different reasons.

John was annoyed at the fact he would now need to buy a new telly, he was considering making the strange intruder pay.

However the strange intruder was wondering what the hell he just broke.

"It's 2012 you say?" Whispered the elegant man, more to himself than to John.

John bent and picked up the pocket watch, it was beautiful even though the delicate face was cracked and a hand was missing.

"Yes 2012, where have you been?" Answered John, maybe he had been across time zones or something.

The dark haired man turned to face John and focused a sharp gaze upon him, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

John rose a singular eyebrow, "You just magically teleported into my living room I think I'll believe you."

The younger man let out a huffy sigh and proceeded to explain that he was from the past.

"Oh… Victorian?" Questioned John weakly, he was guessing what era the man was from by his outdated clothes, "Wait you'd call it the present day wouldn't you… um Queen Vic on the throne perhaps?"

The Victorian nodded and held his hand out for his watch, "Yes, 1887 to be precise. And now I shall be going back."

The dark haired man then proceeded to fiddle with his watch, once he'd finished twiddling bits and bobs he tucked the watch into his pocket and waited.

Nothing happened.

The Victorian pulled the watch back out of his pocket and fiddled some more.

Once again nothing happened.

"Blast!" Shouted the Victorian gentleman, he looked utterly defeated. He then collapsed onto John's sofa and put a hand over his eyes.

"Umm are you alright?" Asked John tentatively.

The man on his sofa gave John a withering look, "Do I look alright to you? I'm stuck in the future what do you expect!"

John's face fell, this poor man stuck in a world that wasn't his own.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" John couldn't think of anything better to say, tea helped with disasters and this Victorian was certainly in one.

The younger man looked at John like he was stupid and then seemed to decide on humouring him.

"Yes, thank you." The Victorian sunk lower into the settee and waited for his drink.

A few minutes later John handed the dark haired man a steaming cup of tea. John noticed the younger man eyeing his dodgy leg as he re-entered the room; he'd obviously noticed John's limp.

"That was quick, did you already have a kettle boiling?" the Victorian said this as he studied the mug John gave him, it was no tea cup.

"Oh… um no our kettles boil themselves. We don't need to light a fire or anything. It takes about a minuet for water to boil in a well-made kettle." John frowned, he had a Victorian in his sitting room, and explaining every new device the man had not encountered before was going to become tedious.

"How is it powered?" Questioned the man from the past.

John sighed into his own cup of tea, causing the steam to distort into odd ghostly shapes, "It's powered by electricity. I'm not sure if they had that in 1887."

To his surprise the Victorian had heard of electricity, but only when concerning light bulbs.

They both fell into silence for a while until John remembered he didn't know this odd man's name.

"What's your name?" Murmured John quietly, the warm tea and slowly darkening sky were making him sleepy.

"Sherlock Holmes, yourself?"

"John Watson."

John felt a stare jabbing at him from the other side of the sofa, when he turned to look at Sherlock the man asked an incredible question.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John looked flabbergasted for a moment but soon gathered his wits to ask how on earth Sherlock knew that, "Afghanistan… how did you know!"

Sherlock gave John the –don't be so stupid- look again and proceeded to explain, "I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's bad when you walk, but your leg doesn't tremble when you stand. Like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, suntan - Afghanistan or Iraq, however in this day and age I have no idea where they are waging wars, so a shot in the dark there. But the Middle East has always been unstable and I don't suppose a century is much when it comes to settling permanent peace"

John stayed completely quite for a moment but soon found his voice, "That was amazing."

Sherlock blinked and looked shocked, like he was the one that had just been subjected to an astonishing display of deduction.

"You think so?" Sherlock if possible looked rather shy, and if it wasn't getting so dark John might have been able to see the light blush sprinkled across the Victorians high cheekbones.

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary." John smiled into the gathering darkness, his teeth standing out in the gloom.

Sherlock felt a rush of warmth at John's praise, "That's not what people normally say."

John fumbled around in the dark for a light switch, "What do people normally say?" He managed to find one and light filled the room again.

"Piss off."

**Okay this is just the prologue, just to see if people like it and want me to continue. If they do the other chapters should be about 5,000 words long each. I hope you guys enjoyed it, please do leave a review!**

**Ta Bamf.**


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